


After the Conflagration

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: F/M, Mild Relationship Angst, Romance, Smut, now AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 00:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8181046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: What will it be like for Patrick and Teresa on the night Red John dies? I hope they will turn to each other immediately. I can't help it. Jane and Lisbon make me porny as hell. Disclaimer: I don't own anything about The Mentalist.May 26, 2013 fic, transferred from FFnet with edits to improve readability.





	1. Chapter 1

The heart was a monolith of molten metal frame, white hot, shimmering, casting clouds of boiling vapor, somehow visible in the conflagration. Halos of red and orange and yellow light formed a writhing corona that pulsated with the super-heated air and danced with the secondary explosions set off as the fire moved through the massive industrial buildings. The bright afternoon sky had turned as dark as outer space next to the sun. The after images were blinding but neither Jane nor Lisbon could turn away, instead squinting and trying to shield their eyes with their hands or averting them. It really didn't work. But it didn't matter. Red John was dead, fuel in that fire, ashes long ago. There was no doubt at all.  


Forced to a distance, Patrick Jane and Teresa Lisbon stood together as the flickering light played against their features, Patrick with his arms slightly lifted and taut away from his sides, Lisbon gaping, beginning to realize the long ordeal was over. Neither could stop staring, but it served a purpose for the tension began to ease from their faces and soon they stood relaxed and even began to get bored with the denouement. Jane took a deep breath and blew it out slowly through puffed cheeks, eyes widening as he looked down at his spoiled brown shoes.  


Lisbon shifted her stance, pawing the ground a little with her feet. "C'mon. Let's get out of here. Red John doesn't deserve one more minute of our time."  


Jane put his hands in his pockets. "Yeah. Yeah, you got that right." He smiled sheepishly. "I'd invite you to my attic for a "case closed" drink, but it's a shabby place for a celebration."  


"Nah. It's after two in the morning. I don't want to go back to the office. No one's there anyway. Let's go to my place. It's quiet and we can decompress, wind down until we can think about tomorrow. And the next day."  


A little surprised at such a personal invitation, Jane chalked it up to elation and a desire to celebrate in some way, although neither of them could be mistaken as being in a party mood. Actually, it was kind of a hollow feeling. Like Red John had taken up all the space and suddenly there was nothing. Jane nodded. "What about the others?"  


"We'll catch them tomorrow," she replied. "It's late. Everybody's exhausted. You know they've gone home, too. We'll party all day at the office. Tomorrow."  


Jane seemed to hesitate.  


"Okay?" What she really wanted was to get him away as quickly as he would go.  


"Yeah." It was over. Red John was dead. "Yeah, just let it sink in."  


Lisbon nodded. "Yeah, we need quiet to just let it sink in." She knew he needed the quiet more than she.  


Patrick Jane was comfortable in Teresa Lisbon's living room although he had been there only a few times, and only once or twice alone. It had always been work-related, as it was tonight. The world felt askew, as if he was seeing it at an angle, orienting himself by reflection in a large, wobbly mirror. He took another small sip of his barely touched wine. The light was fading to dusk outside. Lisbon suggested they sit on the balcony.  


The evening air was restorative, as if it washed through each molecule of his body, wafting the dust and exhaustion from the interstices. Patrick was zoning out a lot, losing track of his thoughts, or was he thinking anything at all? He couldn't remember. Several times he discovered he was glancing at Teresa from the corner of his eye but had no idea what he had been thinking. He heard Lisbon sigh nearby. He responded, "Exactly."  


"Want more wine, Jane?"  


"No. Thanks, Lisbon."  


Patrick set down his wine glass and moved to the balcony rail, looking out into the evening. "Now I can have a life. It's over."


	2. Chapter 2

Lisbon came to stand near him at the rail. They stared into the evening a moment. Patrick reached to take her hand and she gave it, both still gazing over the rail. He looked at their joined hands. The sight of her small one made his heart thump and his lips part in surprise. How had he never noticed? Unless she grasped only two or three of his fingers, she could hang on only by squeezing with her thumb. Jane let go to settle his hand on Lisbon's waist. She moved closer, still side to side, and rested her arm lightly around his waist. Patrick's heart rate stepped up dramatically. Moisture formed a sheen on his brow and dewed his upper lip. He felt a little breathless.  


"Teresa." Patrick's voice was husky and cracked a little. "Teresa?" He sounded a little panicky. But he didn't say anything more.  


She turned her head, studying what she could see of Jane's face in the subdued, dappling light. He continued to stare toward the distant fire, but his eyes were wide and unfocused, his mouth pursed. His distress was obvious, and no wonder. Jane's entire life had changed in the moment that Red John had passed from life to death. His control was crumbling as he tried to deal with the impact. She spoke to him very softly. "Jane, it's okay. It's over."  


It didn't seem to settle him. What about her life? It shocked Lisbon to realize that her life had also changed utterly. She was free of Red John. She was free of Patrick Jane chasing Red John. Her own relief brought tears to her eyes and she let them flow. She gave Jane's side a little squeeze and a shake. Jane turned his head and saw her tears. He struggled briefly to keep his own back, but he could think of no reason for it now. So there they stood, at the balcony rail, arms at each other's waists, tears flowing down their faces, sniffling softly into the night. Jane finally laughed a little in relief.  


Lisbon sniffed in response. "Jane?"  


He looked at her, a wry smile lighting his face. "Teresa. You can call me Patrick."  


She turned away again, but he saw her amused smile. A switch flipped inside Patrick. It flooded him with hope and illuminated a clear path at his feet. It was time, not one more wasted minute! Patrick leaned slowly close and lightly kissed Teresa's cheek. 

Now looking at him, pink flooding her cheeks, she smiled and nodded. "Patrick, then."  


They looked at each other with nothing to force a time limit, nothing to prevent a lingering study of the other. Patrick noticed her high color, pale freckles and eyes as green and deep as a forest in the night. Her dark hair hung in rings at the moistest, hottest places of her neck.  


Teresa saw his flushed warm face, liquid sea-cast eyes and wild wonderful curls, tousled by the day and plumped by the evening breezes. His tongue flicked out to moisten his lips. She quickly looked away, alarmed by the deep thump that emanated from her core and flushed blood like a stream of flame into her chest and face, taking her breath with it.  


Patrick recognized Teresa's beginning arousal. He watched her cheeks redden even more as she hung her head a little. Dismayed that he might have overwhelmed her, Patrick shifted on his feet a couple of times, giving himself a moment to consider. "No. Teresa." He turned completely towards her, flushed and almost desperate but not speaking.  


Facing him, she smiled tentatively, and looked at him with mild curiosity. Teresa's voice was a little hushed when she said, "You got something to say, say it."  


Waiting only a moment, Patrick leaned close to her face, glancing repeatedly from her eyes to her lips, urgent but giving her time to rebuff him. He was begging, almost unconscious of the low sub vocal moaning that echoed from his chest, moving slowly closer to a kiss.  


Teresa could not mistake his intention, yet she disbelieved it and stood frozen, looking at his face. She knew she was flushing and she parted her lips to take in a deeper breath, lightly moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. Patrick saw this, watched her eyes dilate. She breathed out, loud and slow. "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh." A realization, this was real! Patrick's gaze traveled from her eyes to her lips once again. "Yessssss," she responded as she moved to him.  


He rested a hand on Teresa's upper arm as she slid it to his back. Parted, their lips touched and the heat of the kiss built quickly as did their eagerness to deepen it. His moaning became a soft low rumble, more felt than heard. Neither knew when the embrace became total. They wrapped their bodies together, pressing each other to be even closer, closer. When they finally broke the kiss, it was to smile hungrily at each other and melt into another one.  


Separating for their next breath of air, Patrick gently placed his hands on Teresa's arms and held her apart to look into her eyes. "Teresa, it's just that I couldn't say it before. I love you. It's desperate. I've held back for so long. I couldn't show it, couldn't hope. He would have come after you, killed you."  


She stared at him, struck silent as she watched a dream unfold before her eyes.  


"I love you, Teresa."  


"I know."  


"You know?"  


"I'd have to be really stupid not to know, Patrick. What I didn't know is that you could move past your loyalty to your wife. Until Lorelei. Then, for awhile, I believed you didn't love me at all."  


"That was never true."  


Teresa nodded, silent for a few moments. "It took awhile. But you made me see it."  


"You made me show it. By making me choose . . . to be your partner."  


"That's how I knew. When you did everything to become my real partner. I know it was really hard. Sometimes it was so unpleasant for me, but I never wanted to give up as long as you were trying. And you did it. I love you, Patrick. I can't remember when I didn't. Please, kiss me again."  


He did as she asked, but briefly. "I'm sorry I was an ass." Patrick's desire could not be contained much longer. "Let's go in now."  


Just inside the sliding door, they turned to each other again. Neither hesitated to begin the kissing and soft touching that leads to a night of love. Patrick gently kissed Teresa's neck, tasting her at intervals with the tip of his tongue, gauging her breathing and heartbeat with his lips. Thus he learned where to linger. Her scent was musky sweet and her taste salty from the day's labors.  


Teresa swayed on her feet, groaning when spots of nebulous warmth that had to be Patrick's tongue blossomed on her neck. Something primal uncurled in her belly. She wanted her hands on his skin! Tugging his shirttails from his trousers, she didn't even bother to open his vest before her hands were under his shirt, traveling the cords of muscle on his back and the ripple of his ribs. His skin twitched, his breath deepened and his attentions to her neck and shoulders became braver and more insistent, nuzzling fabric aside to press sucking kisses to the swells of her breasts.  


Patrick's voice rumbled low from his chest, hesitant to move too fast or trigger Teresa's natural modesty. He chose to just give his desire a voice. "I'm aching to expose your breasts . . ."  


Teresa froze mid-breath as a bolt of lust surged through her. The way he said things sometimes! She'd never imagined it in a sexual encounter. "Yes!" she exhaled.  


Teresa leaned slightly out of his embrace to give him better access. She could not stop kissing Patrick's head while he removed her blouse, kissing her skin as he exposed it. She kissed his face, his ears, his neck, anything within reach of her lips.  


Patrick mouthed and fondled her breasts as he peeled their layers of covering. Jacket, blouse. When her blouse was opened, he quickly removed it, and then pushed the straps of her bra from her shoulders. He dipped his fingers into the low, lacy cups and scooped out her breasts like luscious globes of fruit, kissing them as they lay in his warm hands. Teresa cried out in shivers of pleasure and whispered his name.  


"Ohhhhhhhhh!" Gazing at the blushing rounds of creamy flesh in his hands, Patrick thumbed the small, tight nipples. Their definition and color increased. Patrick felt the blood rush to his groin. Again. As if it were possible to be more than rock hard. "They're pink, and tight as rosebuds!" Teresa heard a familiar delight in the slight cracking of his voice as he spoke. He slid his thumb from one nipple and looked at her. "So beautiful, so luscious." As his lips opened to her breast, she pushed forward and pressed it against his lips, pushing against his mouth, squirming, moaning.  


She lowered her hand, burning to explore more directly what was sliding against her under his trousers. But their close embrace interfered with the movement of her arm as it waved a little clumsily trying to find its target. There! She brushed the flat of her hand lightly back and forth across the fully aroused "Cock!" that was restrained there. Teresa's eyes fluttered open as she realized what was under her hand and that she'd spoken aloud.  


It was Patrick who groaned aloud now. Looking directly into Teresa's eyes, he smiled wickedly and pushed himself more firmly into her hand, rubbing the proof of his lust for her against her palm. Reflexively, her fingers attempted to wrap him.  


"Oh, you're curious about that, are you?" Patrick teased. "Well, I'm going to answer all of your questions. Soon you will know everything about that."  


"Oh, you think so, do you?"  


"Don't you?" His question was slightly muffled by a new mouthful of pale bosom. His long fingers had dipped below her waistband, moving over the dimples in her lower back. Patrick noted that his attentions there forced Teresa's hips sharply forward. It amused and excited him to do this repeatedly and press against her in return.  


"Definitely," Teresa conceded. "Everything. Patrick. Bedroom. Enough teasing."  


He released her breast from his suckling mouth. "My thoughts exactly. Which way?"  


"I'm sure you know the way," she said with a smoky smile. "You probably know where I keep the toothpicks, have an inventory of the guest room contents and know how many tampons are left in the box under the bathroom sink just by counting backwards from when you were here last."  


"And you choose now to tell me I'm nosy?" He looked at her inquiringly, then broke into a huge grin. "I confess, I do know all those things. But I want you to lead me to your bedroom, tonight, Teresa."  


"I know. Follow me."  


Teresa's dark hair was tousled and her bangs pushed up in several places. It accented the soft girlish pink that started on her face and ran to the swell of her breasts, arousal painting her cheeks an even deeper hue. Her lips were kiss-scorched and plump. The straps of her lacy bra hung off the shoulders, still fastened at her back.  


Taking his hand to lead, she turned to walk ahead of him, cherishing new images of Patrick's yellow curls, wild around his head, his blue eyes lit with passion, wide and accessible.  


As he watched Teresa walking in front of him, Patrick slipped his hand from hers, quickly undid her bra and it fell to the ground. He placed his hand on the small of her back, sparking a frisson of pleasure. As she tilted her hips, he let his hand rove over and then under the globes of her bottom. The sight of what he was doing excited him almost to weakness and he let out an extended, shaky breath, "Ahhhhhhhhh."  


Teresa slowed her pace so that she could cross her arm under Patrick's and do the same to him, cupping and squeezing the rounds of his sleek bottom. She cut the angle of her gaze to see Patrick's erection strain its pleasure ever tighter against his trousers.


	3. Chapter 3

The bedroom was lit by a high full moon shining through the sheers on the windows. Patrick stopped inside the doorway, removing his vest and shirt while Teresa proceeded to sit on the edge of bed. She turned and watched him finish, then stand quietly in place. "I'm yours to command," he said.  


"I do that every day." Variations of this conversation were a staple of their relationship.  


Smirking, Patrick said, "Oh, you just think you do."  


"I do. But you sneak!"  


"Not tonight."  


Now he walked to her, unfastening, unzipping and letting his trousers down as he crossed the room. She leaned back on the bed, propped on her elbows, legs relaxed and apart, still clothed from the waist down. Teresa managed to stifle a giggle when she saw how Patrick's briefs clung to his genitals in bas-relief. It must have turned very warm inside those trousers! Damn, he was a hot morsel.  


"Teresa, take off your pants."  


Titillated by his command, Teresa unfastened them. Lifting her hips, she tugged the trousers off and let them drop to the floor, pushing them slowly aside with her foot. Keeping her panties on, she returned to the same wide relaxed position, waiting to see what Patrick did next. 

He stepped between her legs, still in his briefs, used his knees to push hers further apart and stood looking down at her. The crotch of her panties was damp and tiny strands of dark hair barely curled over the edges like exotic lace. He could smell her musk, heightened by the days activities, and he wanted more of it.  


"I'm going to make love with you, Teresa."  


"Yes, you are. C'mere, Patrick."  


He eased himself to his knees, leaning over to cover her body with his. He began kissing her again, lifting himself just enough to introduce his hard cock to the cushion of her soft and swollen vulva, still hidden beneath her panties, rocking as her breath became ragged and she began moaning. Even between two layers of cloth, they were spiraling quickly to the edge. He said, really to himself, "Too fast, too fast," and backed away. Teresa groaned in protest.  


"No, it gets better, it gets better."  


Slowly, he pulled on her panties, sliding his hands under her bottom and all the way down the backs of her legs as he removed them. Gazing at Teresa, his head made lazy circles, dazed by the sight of milky, freckle-flaked skin that covered her body, accented by a modest dusting of short dark curling hair over the mound of Venus. Beautiful name, that. Patrick put his hand against it, brushing up lightly to thoroughly pet her, mesmerized by the movement of her hips in response to his touch. At intervals her legs opened wide enough to expose a glistening bright pink, like raspberry syrup. She looked swollen and it made him ache with desire for her. "Oh, Teresa." He could barely speak. "I want to kiss you there."  


Teresa just moaned and scooted her hips further towards the edge of the bed to signal her assent.  


"No, I want up there with you."  


Holding her hand out to him for an assist, Teresa sat up. She took hold of his waistband and gently tugged down his briefs so that he could kick them off. This was delicious! She put her hands on him, feeling the rock-hard erection, pointing aloft with its silken skin, rooted in beautiful round balls that were already drawn close to his body and framed by trim golden hair. Teresa became aware that Patrick had begun arching his back a bit, accompanied by little grunting noises. She took her hands away then and smiled at him, moving well back onto the bed. He climbed after her, taking the bottom half to continue his quest for her sweet core.  


Patrick resumed petting her, using his thumb to stroke her awakened clitoris as he rhythmically covered and exposed it. Pleasure rolled through Teresa in sensuous waves that lay her more and more open to him. Finally he lowered his head and kissed her, exploring everything about that soft, pink place with his probing, silky tongue and soft mouth. It was amazing to see her in orgasm. He wanted to be inside her when one of those took hold!  


"I want to see you, Patrick."  


A crown of golden curls appeared over her belly, followed by Patrick's grin as he moved to meet her for a face-to-face embrace. Teresa pushed him gently to his back, gazing at his beautiful face. His torso was smooth with a little hair around the nipples and in the concave spot in the center of his chest. A huge gash of a scar ran horizontally below his rib cage on the right. Have to ask him about that later. The golden hair picked up again under his navel, traveling to frame a plump and proud penis, aching to do its job.  


Her gaze aroused him further, his cock bouncing with a new influx of blood. He smiled and said a little squeakily, "Ahhhhh, there it is. I told you you'd get to know everything about that. Satisfied?"  


"Mmmmmmmmm, very nice, Patrick. And I don't know everything yet . . . " So, Teresa moved down to get a closer look.  


Before long, Patrick was almost senseless. Teresa had eagerly, tenderly, lovingly, and lustily petted, stroked, rubbed, held and felt Patrick before ever putting her mouth on him. She couldn't get enough of him. The taste, the feel of him on her tongue, filling her mouth as she circled him with both hands. She wanted him to come ten ways before she ever got him inside her, but she wanted him inside her more. She smiled in her power to reduce him to loud groaning and mild thrashing now.  


"Teresa, Teresa!" He was calling for mercy.  


She took her mouth off him. Patrick's voice sounded a little strained. "Uh. Where do you want this to happen?"  


Teresa shifted her position to taste more of his lips and face. "Oh, the usual place."  


His eyes were slits and he replied in a dreamy voice, "That's good because I almost didn't make it. I'd love your mouth on me forever."  


"Yeah?"  


"Yeah. Only it wouldn't last forever. " He switched to his silly, croaking voice to continue, "If you know what I mean."  


"Mmmmmmmmm."  


"Maybe a minute." They both snickered.  


Patrick's renewed kisses quickly rekindled the heat, and sent them towards the volcanic goal each sought. He was more insistent now, pushing her shoulder to lay her flat and positioning himself on top of her. Teresa put her hands on top of his hips and curled her own to meet him. Both cried, "Oh, OH, OOHHH!" as Patrick slipped into her, arching his back to push completely into the velvety, super-heated vault that Lisbon offered him. She wrapped her legs around his hips as leverage for her own thrusts. He knew how to touch her, even from the inside!  


Suddenly, Teresa gasped and placed her hands on either side of Patrick's head, holding him still. She felt herself slipping over that molten, frictionless edge. "I love you. I have for so long." It was almost a goodbye, a wave from the cliff of the little death. Then the strength of her orgasm carried her away. 

Patrick felt it bear down on him, gripping him in a pulsing squeeze that was like nothing else, drawing him into her and holding him there. His voice was breathless in her ear, "Teresa . . . my belladonna," as he buried himself completely, pulsing jets of life into a throbbing welcome home.  


Both were unconscious, perhaps it could be called sleep, for a little while. When they awoke, it was to a natural ease, an unselfconscious familiarity, a life exchange of fun and regard, and happiness in each other's company. But the next real order of business was breakfast! Plenty of eggs and bear claws!


End file.
